


so say, what are you waiting for?

by nuuclears



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Barebacking, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, First Time, M/M, Rimming, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 04:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11751771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuuclears/pseuds/nuuclears
Summary: “But are you even into this?” Patrick asks, biting his lip at how vulnerable it comes out.Jonny straightens up fully and stares at him, hands full of gatorade bottles forgotten at his sides. “Kaner, it’sblood,” Jonny tells him incredulously, and ok, a valid point, Patrick does have some idea of how vampires get about blood, but still. It’s not like they’re just drinking from everyone either.“And,” Jonny says, and blows out a harsh breath of air that he doesn’t even need. “And it’s you,” he admits, like it costs him something.





	so say, what are you waiting for?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thundersquall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thundersquall/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a short PWP for Gay Porn Hard. Almost 5 months and 9k later, you can see how well that plan turned out! Title for all the Overcast Kids out there, because we all know that my thoughts on vampire aus would not exist at all if it weren't for Pete Wentz and the seminal classic, ALLSCALMTM.
> 
> A huge, huge thanks to everyone who helped with this, especially thundersquall who kept me motivated and thinking about this for all of those five months when I definitely would have given up on it, and eberbae, runphoebe, and officialhilaryknight who all lent their eyes, encouragement, and advice at various points. You guys are the best <3

“What are you doing here,” someone snaps behind him, loud enough to be heard over the music.

Shit, Patrick thinks and turns around with a sigh. Sure enough, it’s Jonathan fucking Toews standing there glaring at him, looking unfairly good in a fitted black dress shirt that's falling open at the collar, hair still a little wet, maybe, from his post-game shower.

“Well hi, Tazer, how are you? Good game earlier tonight,” he drawls, but as always, his humor and attempt at normal human interaction are lost.

“What. Are you doing here?” Jonny repeats through gritted teeth, looking about ready to strangle Patrick.

Patrick just stares back unimpressed. “Uh, getting a drink? That’s normally what people do in bars?”

“This is a _vamp_ club, Kaner,” Jonny hisses, catching his arm with a cold hand as he tries to turn back to the bar.

“Yeah, i noticed that, buddy,” Patrick tells him, rolling his eyes. The bartender helpfully appears then for him to order. “Can I get a jager bomb and a pint of whatever is on special - actually, make that two shots, maybe it’ll help my friend here get the giant stick out of his ass.”

Jonny’s grip on his arm tightens painfully, fingers digging into the skin, and Patrick tries futilely to jerk free, even though he knows by now it’s useless to fight against undead strength. “Ow, motherfucker, let me go,” he demands.

Jonny eases up but keeps hold of him. “This isn’t a game, Kaner. It’s stupid for you to be here by yourself.”

“Thanks for your concern, but I’m fine,” he answers more sharply, starting to get annoyed. He might be human, but he’s not some child who needs to have his hand held. “I’ve been here before.”

If anything, that only makes Jonny glare harder, “Patrick,” he starts, and that’s real (though entirely unnecessary) concern in his voice, and Patrick is stuck somewhere between frustrated and guilty.

“Ok, fine, with Sharpy,” Patrick relents, breaking eye contact under the guise of adjusting his cap.

“That’s different and you know it,”Jonny tells him and frowns. “Though I’m still not sure him bringing you here is a good idea.”

“Jesus Christ, Toes, you are _not_ my keeper,” Patrick says emphatically. “And it’s 2008. Humans are allowed to mix with vamps, I’m not even close to the only one here!” He sweeps his arm out in a gesture meant to encompass all of the humanity mingling in the club.

Jonny absently follows it with his gaze, taking in the scene, before return his eyes to Patrick. They’re so dark, and shit, is Jonny suddenly closer?

“No, you’re not the only one here,” Jonny agrees, but his voice is lower now, something dangerous licking at the edge of his tone. His eyes are so dark. “You know why they’re here, Kaner?”

“Because it’s a free country and this club has great music?” Patrick tries snidely, not quite able to keep the shake out of his voice, because shit, Jonny really is close now, almost pressed along his front, all coiled strength like a - like a _predator_.

“Because they want to be bitten and sucked,” Jonny continues as if he’d never spoken, leaning down to whisper into his ear. “Used for the night as a vampire’s plaything. Is that what you’re looking for?”

Patrick shudders, unable to keep it in, but seriously, fuck Jonny if he thinks he can scare Patrick that easily.

He jerks his chin up, leaning back to meet Jonny’s eyes. “And what if I am?” he challenges. “Isn’t that why you’re here? To find a neck to bite? How’s that any better?” His heart is racing and he knows Jonny must be able to hear it.

“I didn’t walk into to a bar full of predators smelling like prey, you fucking idiot” Jonny hisses, eyes flashing. “You think you haven’t already drawn attention smelling like that? Vampires don’t like to be teased.”

Patrick swallows hard, but he’s not going to back down now. “Good,” he says.

“You fucking liar,” Jonny says. “I can hear your heart racing. Did you even think this through? You’re lucky I happened to be here.”

“I want to know what it’s like,” Patrick says, as firm as he can make it. “I can handle it.”

“You have no idea what you’re getting into,” Jonny snarls, a hint of fang flashing in his frustration. His hands are clenched into tight fists at his sides. “I’m not letting some random use you when you don’t even know.”

“I’m trying to learn here, if you’d leave me alone,” Patrick snaps. “And it’s not like you’ve volunteered, so.”

Jonny opens his mouth, no doubt to lecture him some more, but then stops and blinks. “Wait,” he says, with dawning certainty that Patrick does not like at all. “Is this about last week?”

“Fuck you, no!” Patrick tells him, and it’s almost not a lie. It’s true that stepping out of the bar the team was at and into the alley to call his dad back, and instead walking up on Jonny balls deep in some guy with fangs sunk in his neck might’ve caused him to think about some things, but in all honesty, this has been a long time coming.

“This is about what I want, and I’m not leaving here tonight alone,” Patrick says with as much conviction as he can muster, staring Jonny down.

Jonny glares back, steaming, and Patrick can almost hear his teeth grinding together. Jonny hates losing and has over two centuries of stubbornness on his side, but Patrick is not giving in on this one. 

“Fine,” Jonny snaps. “If that’s what you want, fine.”

“Thank you,” Patrick says snidely, even though he’s suddenly somehow disappointed, god only knows why. He’s about to turn back to the bar for his drink, but Jonny’s got him by the wrist now. 

“We’re leaving now,” Jonny tells him shortly, starting to pull him to the door.

“What the fuck!” Patrick exclaims hotly. “You just said - “

“You said you wanted to know what it’s like, and I’m saying fine,” Jonny tells him, and oh. _Oh._ He can’t help the curl of heat that settles into his stomach, but that’s pretty arrogant to let go unchecked.

“I - who says I even want _you_ ,” Patrick argues weakly, but Jonny just snorts, which really fair enough.

“You know I can hear your heartbeat,” Jonny tells him. “ _All the time._ ”

And yeah ok, Patrick is blushing, but it’s not his fault, anyone would have a reaction if they had to see Jonny’s thick, muscled body every day in the locker room, every day up close in their room on the road. It doesn’t mean anything.

“I thought you didn’t do teammates?” Patrick tries again weakly, even though he’s not sure why he’s arguing. If he’s honest with himself, he’s wanted Jonny for a long time.

“I don’t,” Jonny answers shortly, and then he’s tossing cash on the bar and pulling him out the door and into a cab.

The ride to Jonny’s condo is quiet, and it doesn’t help with Patrick rising anxiety. He’s jittery, rolling his neck and bouncing his knee until Jonny lets go of his wrist to press his palm down on Patrick’s thigh to still it. 

It doesn’t help though, the cool touch he can feel through his jeans already starting to chub up his dick, even as it reminds him that he’s really got no idea what he’s in for here. He’s heard things before, about being bitten, but suddenly it doesn’t seem like enough. 

Jonny herds him up to his apartment and then they’re alone, standing in the middle of Jonny’s kitchen.

Patrick swallows hard. He trusts Jonny, more than anything, but Jonny’s barely looked at him since they left the club and suddenly this doesn’t seem like such a good idea.

“We don’t,” he tries, but the words get stuck in his dry throat, and he swallows, licks his lips. “We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want.”

Jonny shakes his head, looking up from where he’s rustling in the refrigerator. “And have you out there again the next night looking for trouble? No. If this is something you want, better for it to be me.”

“But are you even into this?” Patrick asks, biting his lip at how vulnerable it comes out.

Jonny straightens up fully and stares at him, hands full of gatorade bottles forgotten at his sides. “Kaner, it’s _blood_ ,” Jonny tells him incredulously, and ok, a valid point, Patrick does have some idea of how vampires get about blood, but still. It’s not like they’re just drinking from everyone either.

“And,” Jonny says, and blows out a harsh breath of air that he doesn’t even need. “And it’s you,” he admits, like it costs him something.

“Yeah?” Patrick says, surprised and maybe a little pleased.

“Yeah,” Jonny answers, rolling his eyes a little. “Like you didn’t know.”

“I really didn’t,” Patrick tells him truthfully, because yeah, there’s always been a weird tension between them, and there was that one night, their rookie year, when Patrick was sure something was going to happen, but Jonny had shut him down so hard, Patrick figured he must just be imagining things.

And then because Jonny is standing there, looking awkward for the first time all night, Patrick admits, “I can’t stop thinking about last week.”

Jonny inhales sharply, and takes a step closer. “Oh?” he asks.

“Keep dreaming about it. That guy - fuck, Tazer. His face when you you were sucking on him. Kept imagining what if it was me instead. If it would feel that good. Woke up halfway to coming a few times,” he laughs ruefully.

And Jonny must hear how fast his heart is beating now, from the admission and from the thoughts, as he stalks toward him like Patrick is his prey.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, stopping right in front of Patrick, and his fangs have slid out now, sharp and dangerous-looking at they catch the light.

“I want whatever you’ll give me,” Patrick confesses, and Jonny growls, closing his eyes for a second to collect himself.

“Drink this,” he orders, pressing one of the gatorade bottles into Patrick’s hand. “You need to hydrate first. And then meet me in the bedroom when you’re ready.”

For once, Patrick doesn’t argue, just cracks the seal on the bottle and does what he’s told.

The bedroom is empty when he gets there, though the trail of Jonny’s clothes leading to the ensuite leave little doubt about where he went. Still, Patrick rocks on his heels as he waits, unsure of what he’s supposed to do here. Finally, he huffs in frustration at himself. He’s hooked up plenty and it’s gone just fine. This isn’t that different. He doesn’t need Jonny to baby him here.

Jonny walks out then though, clad only in tiny black boxer briefs that cling obscenely to his thick ass and thighs, and Patrick stares, mouth suddenly dry. He sees it every day in the locker room, sure, but it’s different when Jonny’s on display like this for him.

“You finish that one?” Jonny asks him, and Patrick nods dumbly in response, stuck watching Jonny come closer and closer, until he stops right in front of him, just a hairsbreadth of distance between them. “Good,” Jonny says, eyes tracking while Patrick licks his lips nervously, and then he’s leaning down to finally kiss Patrick.

It’s - strange. Patrick’s gotten used to Jonny, all his weird quirks that come with being a creature of the night. Jonny’s handsier than anyone on the team, and his cold touch stopped shocking Patrick sometime last year, but this is different. His mouth is cool against Patrick’s own, where he instinctively expects heat, and he shivers into it, moaning just a little when Jonny licks at the seam of his lips, encouraging him to open. A hand slides up to hold Patrick’s face steady as he leans into it, Jonny’s tongue deftly avoid his own sharp fangs to lick into Patrick’s mouth, and Patrick gets lost in it and the feeling of his hands sliding over Jonny’s broad shoulders and back, until he has to pull free, desperate for air. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. “Unfair that you don’t need to breathe.”

Jonny just chuckles eyes drifting lower. His hand slides down, pausing to brush over Patrick’s wet mouth, before sliding lower to cup his neck, thumb pressing into his pulse point.

“Can’t believe you wore that shirt to a vamp club,” Jonny growls, tracing the collar of the v-neck over his collarbone. “Sometimes I think you go looking for trouble.”

“Wanted to show off my - _fuck_ \- assets,” Patrick says, breaking off to swear and Jonny follows the path of his hand with his mouth, all wet suction and just a hint of teeth that has Patrick slumping into his hold. 

Jonny presses a kiss to the delicate hollow of his throat, before mouthing his way up to the thin skin above his collarbone.

“You smell so good,” Jonny tells him, lips moving against his skin, before reapplying himself to the spot. He sucks there for a long minute, tongue working against the sensitive skin in a way that has Patrick squirming, thickening up uncomfortably in his jeans, especially when jonny lets a fang scrape across the spot oh so gently.

“Are you - are you gonna do it?” Patrick pants, suddenly desperate.

Jonny pulls back with a last kiss to look at him, pupils blown wide. “Bite you? No, not yet,” he answers, an amused smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Strip, and get on the bed.”

“You can’t just tell me what to do all the time,” Patrick argues, but it’s weak since he’s already reaching to pull his shirt over his head, hands fumbling with his belt.

“Can’t I?” Jonny asks, drawing himself up to his full height to loom over Patrick, lips drawing back to bare his sharp fangs. He’s the perfect picture of a hunter intent on his prey, and Patrick wants to be caught.

“Fuck,” he swears, dick leaking already as he kicks off his pants and boxers. “I guess I can let it slide for now.”

Jonny smiles sharp and dangerous, watching as Patrick crawls onto the bed. Patrick settles onto his back, fighting the urge to cross his arms over his chest, but he feels vulnerable, suddenly, laid out like this under Jonny’s gaze. It’s only a moment though before Jonny is moving to join him, stretching out to cover him, pressing their bare skin together.  
“What do you want?” Jonny asks bringing a hand up brush the sweaty curls away from Patrick’s face. It’s a moment of tenderness he wasn’t expecting, and he trembles under the touch.

“Want you,” he says, maybe a little plaintive, but the hot burn of arousal is spreading through his nerves and he doesn’t want to have to think right now.

Jonny ducks back in to kiss him for that, mouths moving slickly over each other in a way that only makes him him more desperate. It’s convenient really when Jonny settles a wide thigh between his, so Patrick can rock his aching dick up against it, rubbing over against the thick muscle. Jonny’s boxer-clad hips are pressed tightly to his and it’s only then that he realizes, jerking back from the kiss.

“You- you’re not hard,” he pants, blinking up at Jonny. “I thought. Are you not into it after all?” It’s a horrible thought, that maybe Jonny doesn’t want this, when Patrick needs it so badly.

Jonny stares at him, and blinks. “Kaner,” he says slowly. “I’m a vampire. I haven’t fed since before the game.”

Patrick blinks back, face hot. “What?” he says blankly, before it clicks. “Oh! Oh. You have to…?”

Jonny laughs, a smile breaking across his face before he buries it in Patrick neck. “Uh, yeah. This guy kind of interrupted my dinner earlier when I had to save him from getting eaten.”

“Wow,” Patrick gasps, head tipping back as Jonny mouths his neck again, hand sliding up his chest to rub at a pert nipple. “Sounds, ah, sounds super rude. Maybe he should make it up to you.”

“Maybe he should,” Jonny agrees, coming up to press one more cool kiss to Patrick’s lips before sliding his mouth down. He licks over the same nipple, smirking a little when Patrick jerks, moving in to suck in a way that has Patrick arching up under him. 

“Do you think I should bite you here?” he asks, voice hot and teasing, but doesn’t even give Patrick time to respond, before he shuffling down further, trailing his tongue over Patrick’s taut abs. “Or maybe here,” he muses, pausing to mouth just below his belly button, just inches from where his dick is resting heavy and thick.

“Or,” he continues, muscling in between Patrick’s thighs as he spreads his legs. “Maybe I should bite you here.” He presses his fangs into crease of Patrick’s hip, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to feel it and Patrick moans embarrassingly, hands gripping the sheets. It’s not much of a touch, but his skin feels electrified, every brush of Jonny’s mouth magnified into pleasure.

“Fuck, Jon, whatever you want,” he agrees. 

“Maybe I just want to look for a minute,” Jonny tells him. “You’re so pretty here, Patrick, look at yourself.” And Patrick can’t help but obey, looking down his chest at where his fat cock is already drooling a puddle onto his belly. It’s too much and he has to cover his eyes with his arm.

“So wet and I haven’t even touched you yet,” Jonny continues, but then ruins that by rubbing his thumb over the head.

“Fuuuuuck,” Patrick groans out, the touch radiating out the intense heat of pleasure pain. “Jonny,” pleads.

“I got you,” Jonny responds, and follow with his tongue a beat later, licking over the sticky head and his stomach indiscriminately. The rough swipe of his tongue isn’t nearly enough as he licks, almost cleaning him up if it wasn’t that every pass over the head has more precome leaking out. 

“So pretty,” Jonny repeats, and then he’s sucking just the tip into his mouth, encasing it in slick, cool tightness. Patrick tenses up, because fuck, those fangs are so close to his dick, but Jonny is careful, suckling gently at the tip, at least until Patrick gets impatient and tries to buck up into it for more.

Jonny’s fangs scrape over his cock as Jonny jerks back, swearing at him to be careful, and Patrick freezes. His cock is so sensitive, it hurts, a shocking sting radiating out though it wasn’t even enough pressure to leave a mark, but there’s heat laced with it too, not exactly pleasure, but something that has him squirming just a little in place, wanting more.

“Do you ever -” he blurts, but cuts himself off, embarrassed by what he was about to ask.

“Do I ever?” Jonny asks, curiously, returning to mouth along his shaft and down to his balls now that he has an arm settled heavy over Patrick’s hips to keep him down.

“I mean,” Patrick says. “Have you ever bitten someone, you know. There?”

Jonny pauses to look up at him. “You mean, on their dick?” he asks, and Patrick blushes, avoiding eye contact, but nods.

“No,” Jonny says. “I haven’t. It’s...intense, too much for most people. Not something for a one night stand really. Or for a first bite.”

“Oh, right,” Patrick says, wanting to melt back into the mattress. Of course that’s not a normal thing that people want.

“Hey,” Jonny says. “It’s not - just see if you like this first, and then you can get back to me on that, alright?”  
“Not sure what I’m supposed to be seeing if I like right now,” Patrick grumbles, still embarrassed and a little pissy with it.

Jonny laughs, trailing his mouth down to the soft inside Patrick’s thigh, right below his groin. “Oh yeah?” Jonny asks. “How about this.” And then his fangs are sinking in with a bright shock of pain that has Patrick reeling, hands flying up to grab at Jonny’s head, and then moments later, Jonny closing his mouth around the bite to suck.

It feels - Patrick doesn’t know how it feels, sharp pain meeting burning pleasure and he feels limp with it, like his soul is on a string and Jonny is drawing it out of him with every sip, everything in him hyper-aware of that point of contact, as it builds and builds in him. He wants to move, push up into it, do anything, but he feels so limp, like he’s lost control of his body, just floating in space at Jonny’s whim. He doesn’t even think of his dick until Jonny’s hand closes around it, working it until his vision is going white.

When he comes back to himself, Jonny’s pulled his fangs out and is licking absently at the mark where it’s mostly closed over. 

“Fuck,” Patrick moans, trying to push himself up, despite the weakness in his muscles. “What - I mean. I don’t.”

“Shhh,” Jonny soothes him, sitting up to push Patrick back down onto the pillows. “Just, stay.” He strokes a hand over Patrick’s hair. “You did good.”

“Is it always like that?” Patrick asks tentatively after a minute. “I mean. For everyone?”

“The first bite’s usually intense, but it depends on the person,” Jonny tells him, reaching across to grab one of the spare gatorades sitting on the night stand. “Here, drink this,” he says opening it for Patrick and holding it to his mouth. Patrick obediently swallows until half the bottle is gone and Jonny is satisfied. “How do you feel?” Jonny asks. “Dizzy?”

“Okay,” Patrick says, stretching out his limbs as he feels more himself. This is good, familiar - Jonny interrogating him about how his body’s holding up. “Little shaky maybe.” He frowns then, remembering. “Hey, I thought you were going to fuck me!”

“I wasn’t done with you yet,” Jonny tells him, dark and low, sending a shiver down Patrick’s spine. 

He has to clear his throat before he can get the “Oh” out.

Of course, Jonny has to ruin it though, frowning and sitting back. “Only if you want, though. Was it too much just now? I’ve had enough, I can get by tonight fine,” he assures Patrick.

Patrick rolls his eyes. “You know, for all your dire warnings about savage vampires, you sure seem intent on babying me.”

Jonny’s frown deepens. “I just want to make it good,” he says. “Not all vampires are considerate.”

Patrick shakes his head. “Not all humans are either, dumbass. Plenty of shitty fucks out there on the non-immortal side too. But no, I’m fine. You can keep going anytime now.”

“Yeah?” Jonny checks. “You wanna be stuck on my dick when I get my fangs in you again?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick retorts. “Is your dick up for it yet?”

Jonny raises his brows and looks down, Patrick following his gaze and fuck. He can see Jonny’s cock thickening up in his briefs, stretching the thin material, and yeah, it’s big.

“Fuck, come on, Jonny,” he bites out, reaching down to squeeze his own dick as it twitches almost painfully, sensitive so soon after coming. “Get your dick out and let’s go.”

“So impatient,” Jonny teases him, but he’s scooting down the bed again and that’s all Patrick cares about right now. “I’m not gonna fuck you dry with no prep, so you’re going to have to wait a minute. This is supposed to be a good experience.”

He flips Patrick over, shoving a pillow under his hips to tilt him up, and then his hands are spreading Patrick open, a quiet grunt let out as he looks his fill. “Fuck, and look at how pretty you are here too,” Jonny tells him.

Patrick buries his face in the pillow, knowing he’s red with embarrassment again. He wants Jonny to _do_ something, not just stare at where his hole must be all pink and exposed for him. This position is vulnerable enough without prolonging it.

“Get the fuck on with it,” he demands, turning his head to the side to be heard. “Unless you want the takeaway to be ‘vampires have no follow-through.’”

“Listen, buddy, only one person has come already here,” Jonny argues. “And it wasn’t me.”

“Oh my god, you got hard like 60 seconds ago, I’m not a miracle worker!” Patrick complains, squirming just a little. His dick is getting hard again against the pillow under him, even as mortified as he is by the staring, and would Jonny _just fucking touch him already_.

“Don’t have to be hard to come,” Jonny tells hims conversationally, squeezing his cheeks a little, and pulling them wider apart. Patrick clenches, thinking about the implications of that, he can’t help it, and Jonny lets out a little groan.

“...Okay, we’re definitely coming back to that,” Patrick tells him. “But right now would you please get on with whatever you’re gonna do here? Or do I need to prep myself.”

Jonny laughs, a breathy chuckle. “Wouldn’t mind seeing that,” he admits, but there’s a minute of shuffling against the sheets and then something firm and wet slides over his hole. 

Patrick curses, pushing his ass back for more, because that’s Jonny’s tongue, but Jonny’s got him, already ducking back in to lick over the little pucker of his hole again and again. His mouth is warmer now, Patrick’s blood already pumping through his veins, and his hands easily stilling Patrick’s squirming as he takes his time to mouth at the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, please, come on,” Patrick whines, hands fisted tightly in the sheets, and Jonny huffs behind him, but then, _yes_ , his stiffened tongue is poking at the rim until his fingers spread Patrick’s hole open enough it slides inside, cool against the slick heat of Patrick’s walls.

Patrick can’t help it, he yells, his hips bucking back instinctively. Jonny grunts, pulling back for a breath as an forearm as strong as steel rebar settles to pin his hips. Then he’s diving back in, tongue back to work before Patrick even thinks of complaining. He’d be embarrassed at the way he’s panting and muffling moans in the pillow, just from Jonny’s mouth, but fuck. 

He’s never noticed Jonny’s tongue much, but Jesus, that was a serious oversight. It’s thick, and strong, and _long_ , licking him out in the best way. It’s not his first time getting his ass eaten but he doesn’t think it’s ever been this good before, even pinned like this so he can’t do much to rub his hard cock against the sheets.

He can’t help trying though when Jonny backs off, feeling the loss of it as spit cools on the now-exposed skin of his hole, already oversensitive from Jonny’s attentions, but there’s nowhere much to go.

“Easy there, Peeks,” Jonny admonishes, and Patrick stills abruptly as the sharp pressure of teeth, of _fangs_ , drags lightly over the meat of his ass in warning, making him shiver in anticipation.

He clears his throat. “That-that supposed to be a threat, Toews?” he manages, ignoring how much more wrecked he sounds compared to Jonny.

The low chuckle from behind him sends heat dancing up his spine. “Should’ve known you’d like it,” Jonny says, a dark promise in his voice. Patrick’s wants to protest, except before he can get his mouth to listen to him, there’s pressure back on his hole, and then Jonny’s sliding inside again, two cool fingers this time, slick with lube.

“Fuck,” he curses weakly into the pillow, because Jonny’s fingers are thick, and it’s maybe been a while since he’s done this, even to himself. A long while.

Jonny takes his time, sliding in and out, opening Patrick up slowly but relentlessly. He pauses every so often to drag over Patrick’s prostate in ways that have Patrick squirming in his hold, sweat beading along his hairline, or to lap almost delicately around his fingers. A third presses in next to the other two, spreading Patrick even wider, and Jonny frees Patrick’s hips in favor of using his other hand to pull one of Patrick’s cheeks away for better access. 

The newfound freedom is so good, letting Patrick rock back onto those fingers, mindlessly shoving his leaking dick against the bed as he does, losing time a little as he inches closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Pat,” Jonny says, and his voice is a little rough. “You should feel yourself right now, you’re clenching so tight on my fingers, so hot inside. You thinking about my dick in there?”

“Wouldn’t - oh, fuck,” Patrick breaks off as Jonny rubs his fingers right on his prostate, ducking in to graze his fangs next to slick, taut skin. “Wouldn’t have to think about it if you’d hurry the fuck up,” he grits out, forcing his head to the side to be heard.

He bites back a yelp when Jonny just drives in harder.

There’s a fourth finger nudging at his hole, and ok, Patrick is wrung out and fed up with this. “Fucking _come on_ your dick is not that big!” he complains, pantly wetly.

“You sure about that?” Jonny asks, and it’s so brazen and cocksure, Patrick wants to punch him, except punching Jonny is like punching a brick wall - useless and probably only going to hurt himself.

“Not a virgin, Toes,” he reminds him instead. “Bet you aren’t even the biggest I’ve had,” he taunts. He’s pretty sure it’s a lie from the little preview he had, but just like during a game, challenging Jonny Toews is a surefire way to get him to do what you want.

It works, of course, Jonny growling and squeezing his ass hard, before pulling back abruptly.

“Gonna be the best you’ve ever had,” Jonny promises darkly, shifting around on the bed.

Patrick gets impatient after only a few moments of this though.

“What are you doing?” he demands, pushing himself up on shaky limbs to see what the hell the hold up is now, rolling onto his side just in time to get an up-close view of the naked, tanned skin of Jonny’s thighs as he crawls up the bed beside him - and the fat, red cock hanging between them. Jesus.

He reaches out, unable to stop himself, but Jonny’s already gone, settling against the headboard. And well. That is a Sight, Jonny sprawled there, his thick cock jutting up from between those fucking thighs, casually held by one big hand to lay leaking against toned abs. It’s shiny with slick, sticky precome at the bared head where the foreskin has pulled back and what must be lube smeared down the shaft. Patrick’s mouth waters as he stares.

“Well?” Jonny says, somewhere between expectant and impatient. “It’s not gonna ride itself.”

And wait, when he’d been put on his belly he’d just assumed, but Jonny wants him to...Patrick can’t stop the desperate noise he makes as he scrambles up the bed. He almost knees himself in the face in his rush and it’s gotta be the least sexy thing ever, but Jonny doesn’t seem to mind, just guides him into hovering over his lap, the fat head of his dick pressed tight against his hole when Patrick experimentally rocks down just a little, just barely pressing in.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Jonny grits out, hand clenched so tight on Patrick’s hip he’s sure there’ll be bruises tomorrow. For the first time, he looks just as affected by everything, like maybe his control isn’t quite so ironclad after all.

Patrick’s so close to getting what he wants, but looking down into Jonny’s face, tense with the effort of not just forcing Patrick onto his cock, he can’t help pausing.

“Jon, I…” he trails off, biting his lip. He’s not sure exactly what he’s looking for, but something in Jonny’s face softens.

“C’mon, Peeks,” he cajoles. “Don’t tell me it’s too big after all.”

It startles a laugh out of Patrick and Jonny grins up at him, his stupid face flushed like it only is after feeding, and Patrick _did that._

“You wish,” Patrick retorts, but it’s enough to get him moving, finally letting himself sink down.

It’s - fuck, okay - it’s big, feels even bigger than it looked now that that thick head is trying to press in, stretching him more than the ring of muscle wants to allow. He wasn't lying when he said he wasn't a virgin, but it's been long enough that he honestly might as well be, and Jonny is bigger than anything he's taken. He can’t admit defeat now though, just grits his teeth and pushes back hard, gasping when his body finally gives enough that the head pops in with a bright rush of pain.

Jonny grunts underneath him, the hand on his hip squeezing hard as they both freeze, his hole spasming around where the flared tip of Jonny’s dick is stretching him wide. Fuck, maybe he should’ve let Jonny use four fingers first. Maybe he should’ve taken his whole damn hand, he thinks a little bit hysterically as he trembles there, taking a deep breath before he starts trying to shove himself down further.

It's torturous, the slow press in as his body struggles to accommodate the intrusion, a burning drag that has him panting as he's spread open.

He has to stop to breathe halfway down, trembling and stuck, hands clenched tight on Jonny’s shoulders to hold himself there. He feels like he's being broken in two, like Jonny's cock isn't just forcing his ass open but cracking his chest open too.

“Fuck,” Jonny swears. “You're so - are you okay? You're so fucking tight.”

Patrick laughs, shaky and breathless. “Your - fuck. Your fucking cock,” he counters, both of them groaning as his strained rim gives a little more and he slides down another inch. “Jonny,” he stutters. “I-I-”

“Fuck, Peeks, you're almost there,” Jonny encourages, voice maybe starting to strain. He's been so patient, staying so, so still, letting Patrick slide down just a little more. “You've got it, baby, you're so close.”

Patrick whines, but bears down, Jonny already so huge inside him but wanting to take everything from him he can, and _fuck_ , that’s it, he finally settles, ass flush against Jonny’s lap. Jonny is so deep inside him, he can’t do much more than sit there and pant, sweat dripping down from his hairline.

It’s intense, being pressed together so intimately and the steady pressure against his walls, the need to move building until he’s rocking a little, testing the motion out. He still feels stretched beyond his limit, but the burn of it is fading, settling into a dull ache.

“Patrick,” Jonny groans, hips twitching under him. “You gotta…”

Patrick looks down into his face, his eyes so dark as he stares back, teeth gritted, holds the gaze as he leans back, using his grip on Jonny’s shoulders to rise up a little before dropping back down. The breath he’s been holding leaves him in a rush, a sharp noise punched out of him as the thick width of Jonny’s cock rubs against his prostate that Jonny echos a moment later when Patrick clenches around him so tight. He does it again, and then again faster, the slide becoming easier as he adjusts, and fuck, it’s good, his eyes fluttering closed at the thick drag of it inside that goes straight to his cock where it lays fat and leaking against Jonny’s stomach.

He takes Jonny’s cock over and over, a little more each time until he’s bouncing mindlessly on it, hips seeking the bright shocks of pleasure that dance up his spine when it hits his prostate just right. He leans back trying to chase a better angle, but his hands slip on Jonny’s shoulders, slick with sweat, until Jonny’s slides around to palm his lower back, helpfully supporting the arch of his spine.

It’s better, but somehow still not quite enough, his legs only able to take so much after playing a hard-fought game earlier, his thighs trembling from the strain of of his movements and his abs burning with the effort of holding the stretch. Jonny’s so still below him, quiet except for the occasional small noise, and it seems so unfair, how controlled he still is when Patrick feels like he’s losing his mind. Fucking vampires.

He blinks open his eyes, expecting to see Jonny as steady as ever, but his motions stutter. Jonny’s kept still maybe, but it's clearly costing him, his head tipped back and face tense, teeth bared with his fangs on display. The hand not supporting Patrick is fisted in the sheets and his eyes, fuck, his pupils are so dilated his eyes look entirely black as they flit rapidly between Patrick’s face and his movements on his lap.

Patrick thinks, then, about how careful Jonny has been, how he seems almost afraid of scaring him, and as sweet as that concern might be in another setting, Patrick has really had quite enough of it right now. Luckily, he knows Jonny pretty well.

“So I gotta -gotta do everything myself?” he challenges, hoping blinking his eyes open to find Jonny staring up at him. “Gotta do all the work here too?”

He’s so blatantly baiting Jonny, breaking the hushed intimacy of the moment, but it just feels achingly familiar when Jonny’s face contorts at the mere suggestion that he’s not pulling his weight.

“Just thought you might want a turn after you let me do all the work tonight,” Jonny retorts, even as he’s stilling Patrick’s hips. Patrick wants to protest - Jonny was only one point up on him! - but the words stutter with the first hard drive of Jonny’s hips, spilling out instead as a moan.

He’d thought he’d gotten used to the stretch, but this is something entirely different, the snap of Jonny’s hips as he fucks up into him steady and relentless. Strong hands come up to grip Patrick’s hips, pulling him down to meet every thrust, fucking in deeper than Patrick could manage alone. Every push inside drives his fat cockhead into Patrick’s prostate, so intensely direct it’s somewhere past pleasure, and he’s so thick that the stroke back out is no relief either, the width of his shaft dragging back out in a torturous slide that has Patrick open-mouthed and squirming in Jonny’s grip in seconds, not sure if he’s trying to twist towards the pleasure or away. There’s no escape though, not with Jonny holding him so tightly, his inhuman strength on full display as he easily lifts Patrick up and down on his cock, shoulders bunching under Patrick’s hands.

The hurt sounds fall out of Patrick’s mouth, punched out by Jonny’s cock, but at least Jonny’s not silent anymore, grunting out every time Patrick squeezes down on him even tighter.  
He looks down, wanting to make sure Jonny is here with him, but instead of meeting his eyes, Jonny’s gaze is fixed somewhere lower. On the curve of his throat, he realizes. Patrick shivers, stilling, as if caught by the hungry stare. The first bite had been so good. Suddenly, he wants to know what those teeth would feel like sliding into the delicate skin of his neck.

“Jonny,” he says, voice rough. It takes a minute, but Jonny blinks, finally reluctantly moving his gaze up to meet Patrick’s. The rest of the words stick in Patrick’s throat, caught up in the intensity of the stare, punched out by the drive of Jonny’s cock as a strangled moan in the next moment instead. Patrick doesn’t know how to ask for what he needs, and he blinks down helplessly at Jonny instead.

But maybe Twilight was right about vampire telepathy, because a moment later Jonny’s stilling his movements, pulling Patrick down one last time so he’s settled in Jonny’s lap, fully impaled on his length.

Patrick would protest but a second later, Jonny is leaning in, nuzzling at the sensitive skin of his throat. He gasps at the stinging drag of teeth over his clavicle, his hand flying up to hold Jonny’s head there, even as a second later it’s followed by the soothing wetness of a tongue.

“Jonny,” he begs, shifting restlessly. The gentle suckling at the delicate skin is going right to his dick, leaking steadily over Jonny’s abs. It’s a horrible tease, especially feeling stuck like this, spread open wide on Jonny’s dick, unable to do more than tiny rolls of his hips down. He needs more - something - and he repeats himself with more desperation when Jonny just hums against his skin.

Jonny pulls back - and no, that’s not what he wanted - but it’s just to grip his chin, tilt his face down so Jonny can meet his eyes dead on. “Gonna bite you,” he rumbles, almost a hint of warning to it, but, yes. “Yes,” Patrick tells him, voice breaking and oh so grateful when Jonny ducks back in to give one final hard suck, before his teeth slide in, neatly slicing into the skin.

“Fuck!” Patrick cries out, shaking. It hurts so much more here, so close to the bone, than it did on his thigh, a sharp biting pain radiating out through his chest and shoulder, but before he can gulp enough air to sob again, Jonny _sucks_ , and it’s... 

It feels like he’s being turned inside out. Like Jonny is pulling the little pieces of him out with his mouth one by one and replacing them with bright-edged pleasure that makes him shake. He shifts, the intensity of the feeling making him desperate to move, but that only reminds him of the thickness of Jonny inside him, hard and constant against every part of him, clenching reflexively against the pressure and mewling when it presses more firmly into his prostate. He can’t help it, rolling his hips helplessly into the feeling, the hurt noises jerked out when he moves too far and it tugs sharply on the place where Jonny’s fangs are buried in his neck, sucking and sucking.

Jonny growls, hands squeezing Patrick’s hips oh so tight, annoyed that Patrick is disturbing his meal, but he gives in a moment later, rocking his hips up almost lazily into Patrick, small movements that make sure Patrick is feeling every inch but aren’t enough to truly distract from the pull of his mouth. He clutches at Jonny’s head, the strands of hair too short to really grip but he needs something to distract him. It’s too much, between the suckling at his neck and the lazy grind of his cock, all white-hot pleasure burning through his veins, so intense it has Patrick feeling almost sick with it, a burn that settles in his stomach and leaves him desperate to come. If he hadn’t once before, he’s sure it would already be over. He feels out of his mind with it, floating somewhere between the two bright anchors of pleasure-pain in his neck and his hole.

Jonny sucks hard and long, but then he’s already pulling back, his fangs sliding out with a sickening pull that makes Patrick whine and shudder. He laps lazily at the skin there, the rasp of his tongue cleaning and closing the bite sending little shocks up and down Patrick’s spine, before pulling back to more easily fuck himself up into Patrick.

Patrick feels dizzy with it, head lolling heavily on his neck, able to work himself some on Jonny’s cock again now that Jonny’s no longer feeding from his neck, mindlessly rutting his cock against Jonny’s stomach, already slick with precome. He wants to come so bad, he can feel it in his teeth. He blinks down at Jonny through heavy lashes, wondering if Jonny’s close too.

Jonny looks - he looks _drunk_ , his eyes half-lidded and sleepy, and so incredibly dark, pupils blown wide and swallowing the iris, just watching Patrick as he grinds up into him lazy and slow over and over. He’s flushed and sweaty as Patrick almost never sees him, skin hot against him. _Blood drunk_ Patrick realizes, eyeing the red mess smeared over Jonny’s lips, off of _him_.

Patrick can’t help it, needs to be closer, and he tips his head down to press their foreheads together, Jonny’s face spinning in his view as he moves, gasping as their hips meet just right.

“Jonny,” he moans. “I’m so close.” And he is, even though the slow slide of Jonny inside him shouldn’t be nearly enough. But Jonny’s so wide that even just rocking together, it’s a constant, brutal press against his prostate, forcing him tighter and tighter around Jonny’s thickness as he inches closer to the edge with every push.

“S’it baby,” Jonny slurs, and Patrick stretches down blindly to search for Jonny’s mouth, sighing as their lips finally slide together. He licks inside greedily, tasting Jonny and the sharp tang of blood - his blood. His blood that is pumping through Jonny’s veins right this moment, warming him to blood-hot under his palms, and filling the cock that’s filling him so well, and with a sob, Patrick coming, whole body going tighttighttight as he shoots all over Jonny’s belly.

Jonny fucks him through it with steady rolls of his hips, each one forcing another dribble of come from Patrick’s dick. He’s not so quiet now, grunting as Patrick helpfully tries to clench down around him, ignoring the hurt from his oversensitized body to use his hole to milk Jonny’s release from him, until finally Jonny groans and shoves up so deep, spurting inside him.  
They slump together after, Patrick breathing harsh and uneven as he comes down. He feels wrung out and exposed, like he’s been cracked open by Jonny never to be repaired.

“I didn’t,” he croaks, finally, wanting to tell Jonny that he didn’t expect it to be like this, but Jonny just shushes him, rolling them over so he can pull out, and gentling Patrick with the press of his lips to his forehead when he winces. It sends a warm flush of a completely different kind of pleasure spreading through his body.

Which. 

Jonny was supposed to be showing him what it was like to be bitten. He wasn’t supposed to be kissing his forehead or calling him baby. Patrick feels like he’s completely and totally lost control of this situation and he should - do something. But it’s hard to hold onto that thought when he’s dizzy and tired - like he’s the one drunk - and the room is spinning around him as he vaguely realizes Jonny’s wiping him down.

He loses time for a bit. Jonny makes him sit up and drink something he thinks but it’s a bit hazy, and then he’s being pulled down, strong arms arranging him under the covers and wrapping tight and solid across his chest to hold him. They should talk, he knows, but the exhaustion is settling over him, heavy like a wool blanket, and he can’t bring himself to fight it, and instead drifts off to sleep.

\--

He wakes up the next morning to light filtering in through the blinds of the window and the distant rumble of Jonny’s juicer. It takes him a minute to place the noise - and who’s bed he’s waking up in - but then it all comes back in a rush. Jonny had...he and Jonny...it’s like his brain doesn’t even know how to begin to make sense of it.

He stretches on the bed, body sore in a different way than he’s used to from hockey. His neck itches, and he absently reaches up to scratch it. He’s not expecting the bright sting of pain as his nails scrape over the scab, and fuck that’s right, Jonny _bit_ him. Jonny bit him on his neck, and on his thigh, and Patrick let him, and he also let him - let him.

Patrick sucks in a deep breath, and slides a hand down between his legs and behind his balls, tentatively circling his hole. His rim feels hot and sore, abused from the stretch of Jonny’s cock inside him, and when Patrick bites his lip and carefully works a finger inside, he finds himself still a bit slick and sticky. From the lube, maybe, but also, from Jonny’s _come_. His dick jerks where it’s stirring against his thigh and Patrick quickly pulls his finger out. 

He needs to find some pants, and then find Jonny and figure out a way to make this morning after not so horrifically awkward that Patrick needs to move to Kazakhstan to get away from him. They probably don’t have much good hockey in Kazakhstan.

It takes him a minute to hunt for his boxers where they somehow got kicked under the bed, but it’s much easier to find Jonny in the kitchen.

“Hey, drink this,” Jonny greets him when he walks in, shoving a glass full of pinkish juice at him without even fully turning around. “Still got an hour til we have to leave for practice. You want a shower?”

Patrick stares at the glass blankly. Did he wake up in an alternate universe where last night never happened? Or is he finally going crazy, because Jonny is definitely acting like this is just another morning after where Patrick came over and crashed on his couch the night before.

“What’s wrong?” Jonny asks when he finally turns and sees Patrick standing there dumbly. “I put like half a pint of strawberries in it, you can’t tell me you won’t like it.”

Patrick blinks, not even sure what to say.

Jonny frowns at him, but a second later his face clears. “Oh, right,” he says, stepping in close. “Good morning, Patrick,” he says, his face soft and open, and then cool lips are pressing against Patrick’s, sweet but thorough. 

Patrick kisses back, can’t help himself. He’s no less confused, but maybe. Maybe Jonny meant it when he said that he wanted Patrick. Maybe he meant for more than just a fuck.

Jonny pauses though, when their faces are still close, inhaling deeply for a second, brow furrowing. “Did you -” 

He stops and leans back, surveying Patrick before zeroing in on his neck. “What did you do to it?” he demands. “I know I closed it last night.”

“What?” Patrick asks, totally confused, reaching up to brush over the bite. His fingers come away wet though, a smear of red staining them. “Oh. It was itchy?” he offers.

Jonny huffs. “You’re not supposed to pick at it,” he chastises like the mother hen he not so secretly is. Patrick doesn’t miss the hungry way his gaze is flitting between Patrick’s neck and his fingers. He’s still not sure this isn’t going to end in disaster, but the way Jonny’s looking at him, not just hungry, but warm too, like Patrick’s the best thing he’s ever seen, makes him bold.

He holds out his hand towards him and smirks, puts a hint of cockiness into it as he says, “Hey, Jonny, don’t waste food.”

Jonny laughs and leans in, closing his mouth around the pads of Patrick’s fingers, cleaning him off with gentle sucks. Patrick shivers under the ministrations.

Jonny pulls off with a pop and smiles at Patrick, a smear of red at the corner of his mouth, before he ducks down to lap oh so delicately over the scabbed over bite, steading Patrick as he shudders with big palms cupping his shoulders.

It’s so gentle, tender almost and Patrick just needs to know. He clears his throat, biting at his lip a little nervously, but manages to ask, “So are we doing this for real then?”

Jonny stills where he’s moved on to sucking lightly along Patrick’s neck, pulling back to look at him.

“Were we ever not?” he asks, assured and steady, like this was inevitable from the beginning and Patrick smiles shyly at him. 

“Yeah, guess you’re right,” he agrees and leans up to fuse their mouths together once more, before tugging Jonny off to the shower. There’s still 45 minutes until they have to leave for practice, and Patrick intends to make very good use of all of them - and his new boyfriend.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me at:  
> nuuclearshow @ tumblr  
> fighteveryfight @ twitter


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